


Space Flat

by rainbowanatomy



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Mostly Fluff, Space Wives!, did someone do this already?, just some cute shit from s11 omg, sex mentions but nothing explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:35:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29684079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowanatomy/pseuds/rainbowanatomy
Summary: Yaz gives the Doctor a very special gift. There's a purple sofa involved, too.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Kudos: 7





	Space Flat

**Author's Note:**

> I just love goofy thirteen she deserves to just be goofy. She hates being still unless she's with Yaz or in front of pop-tarts... enjoy! un-beta'ed bc I never really edit my stuff it's just for enjoyment!

Yaz has been preparing for this for a long time. Most of it has been due to figuring out what the TARDIS can and can't do, what it will and won't do for her, and how much it will keep from the Doctor. Considering the number of times Yaz and the Doctor have wandered themselves into a state of "lost in the TARDIS", and her fail-safe methods of distraction, she relaxed quickly about keeping this door hidden. On the occasions the TARDIS decided to mess with her, she just lured the Doctor away from the shiny new door with promises of homemade cookies. And when she got tired of baking, sex. It's given her a 100% success rate. Time has ceased to feel linear, so once the work was complete, she just had to wait until the moment felt right. Ryan and Graham were in on it, too. They helped her secure the piece de resistance: a purple sofa. Their last task is to ask for a day off in Sheffield, so she and the Doctor can have some-

“Alone time?” the Doctor repeats, like her ears are pricking at the words.

“It could be nice, right, Doctor?” Yaz asks, wrapping an arm around her waist, leaning her head on the time lord’s shoulder.

“Could be _very_ nice.” Yaz feels the Doctor’s hand on her low back.

“So is that a yes?” Ryan cuts in, “Cause I ought to text my da’ now.”

“Yeah, you had me at alone time, mate. Let’s go.”

* * *

Yaz heart is racing as the Doctor closes the TARDIS door behind Ryan and Graham. _What if she hates it?_ The Doctor leans against it, grins at her like she can hear her heart. Which Yaz knows she can. “So,” the Doctor starts, slowly walking up to where Yaz is resting against the console, “What do you want to do, huh?” Yaz leans into her touch, wrapping her arms around the Doctor’s shoulders as the Doctor wraps hers around her waist. “Your heart’s racing,” the Doctor whispers against her lips, “It’s a lovely sound. My third favorite actually.” The Doctor kisses down her neck, hands sliding under the hem of her shirt. Which just makes her heart race faster.

“Oh?” she chuckles, threading one hand through the time lord’s blonde hair, “What’s your second?”

“All the different ways you say my name.”

“Self-centered, much?” she chuckles, knees going weak. The Doctor just hums against her neck as her fingers unbutton her pants with familiar ease. Yaz is starting to forget the surprise she’s had planned. “Go on, then, what’s your first?”  
The Doctor pulls back, hands coming up to cup her face. “When you say you love me.” Those green eyes are wide pools she drowns in.   
“I love you,” she breathes. Her time lord breaks out into a brilliant blush.

“I love you, too,” the Doctor returns, closing the distance between their mouths again for another kiss that quickly turns frenzied. Yaz is just about ready to give up on the surprise for another few hours when the Doctor pulls away, panting. “Do you want to go to your bedroom? Get more comfortable?” It’s the perfect segue.

“I do want to get more comfortable,” Yaz agrees, “ _But_ … I have something to give you first.”

“Oh?” The Doctor’s eyebrows quirk. “A gift? For me?” Yaz nods quickly, grinning. “What’s the occasion?”  
“The occasion is… all of them? It’s not like I really know what day it is.”

The Doctor grins. “Where is this gift?” Yaz takes her hand and leads her into the hallways of the TARDIS. They’ve been wandering for five minutes when she starts talking to the TARDIS. “Come on, old girl,” she says, ignoring the look the Doctor gives her, “It’s okay, she can see it now.”  
“You sound like me.”  
“Shut it, you,” Yaz sighs, then again to the TARDIS, “Please?” They turn a corner and she races towards the shiny door in relief.   
“Oi, isn't that the weird door that started popping up out of nowhere?"

“It’s not weird! Wait there for a tick.” Yaz leaves the doctor in the hall and slips in the room, careful not to show too much off of the inside. She double checks the pictures on the wall, fluffs the pillows on the purple sofa. The bookshelf is full of familiar and ancient titles, and the kitchen is full of far too many custards and clotted cream donuts. The bathroom has a huge tub, and one way glass walls for the "rain cloud" shower that over look a part of the water park (well. She hopes it's one way but she hasn't managed to find that bit of the park). She fixes the shampoo and conditioner display, realigns the rubber duckies. Finally, she ducks into the bedroom for one last check. It took a couple of weeks of begging for a master bedroom. The TARDIS seemed to think she should be content with the bedroom it already gave her. At least, that's what she could infer from its various sounds when she would talk to it. Especially since she already shares it with the Doctor. But eventually she won that argument.

She fixes the polaroids on the cork board, rearranges the three stuffed animals, rearranges them again, then settles on putting them on the little rocker in the corner. When everything is in place, she bounces back over the the main door.

“Oi, don’t laugh at me,” she hears the Doctor protest, and opens the door to see her time lord halfway to a handstand. “Oh, Yaz! Brilliant. The TARDIS was laughing at me.”

“I kind of want to laugh, too,” Yaz chuckles as the Doctor rights herself.

“Don’t you start, either.” The Doctor glances over her shoulder. “Are you ready?”  
Yaz yanks the door shut, and covers the Doctor’s eyes with her hands. “Close your eyes!”

“What, do you think I have X-Ray vision?”  
“Just do it! I can still feel you blinking!”

“Okay, okay, got my eyes closed, you loon.”

“Good Doctor. Okay, you can open the door.” The Doctor’s hand fumbles forward, turns the knob, and pushes the door open. Yaz nudges her forward to the middle of the room, then slides her hands down so she can wrap her arms around the Doctor’s waist and rest her chin on her shoulder. “Okay, you can open your eyes.”

She glances up into those green eyes, taking in the room. “I should probably explain,” she realizes, letting the Doctor go from her embrace. “Remember when you first met my family?”

“The Khan family. Good people. Great memories,” the Doctor returns, wandering over to the book shelf, studying the titles.

“Well, you said to picture you with a flat so… here you go!” The Doctor pauses, turns back to look at her. “I couldn’t picture the flat in any specific city or planet, so I thought… why not have one on the TARDIS? A little flat that you can take anywhere in all the universes. There’s a great bathroom, two TVs..., and a really big bed. Californian King sized. And it has a purple sofa.” Yaz sits down on it, heart in her throat, until the most dazzling smile breaks out across the Doctor’s face.

“We have a flat?” the Doctor murmurs, crossing over to her and sitting on her lap, “With a purple sofa?”  
“Do you like it?”

“It’s perfect.” The Doctor kisses her forehead, cheeks, nose. “I love it, Yaz!” She looks around again. “Did you say big bed?”

Yaz flushes. “Let me give you the full tour first. Off me, you big baby.” The Doctor stands and pulls Yaz up with her. She takes her to the kitchen, watches the Doctor open all the cabinets, laugh at the banana-print dish rag, and light up at the donuts and creams in the fridge. “Those are for _after_ ,” she emphasizes, closing the fridge door.

“It was _one_ time, Yaz,” the Doctor sighs, “I’ve learned my lesson!”

“It was twice and you know it.” She kisses the her cheek. “ _After_.”

But by the time they make it to the last stop on the tour, the master bedroom, and Yaz turns to make sure the Doctor is behind her, the Doctor is very subtly trying not to chew. “What?” she asks, mouth clearly full.

"I know that's donut powder. Unless you started wearing white lip gloss."

The Doctor swallows and grins. "I’ll need the energy!”

Yaz shakes her head, and opens the bedroom door. She fumbles for the little light switch for the fairy lights she put on the canopy. They cast a dreamy light over the room when she finally turns them on.

"Like I said," she murmurs, crossing over to the mattress, "Big bed."

The Doctor's goofy grin turns sensual smile as she walks forward. "Very big." She holds Yaz by the hips, kisses her soft, until Yaz's heart is pounding again. "There goes my third favorite sound." She leans back, shrugs her coat onto the floor. "On the bed, you. I’d like to hear my other favorites, too."

* * *

"Do you really like it? Our flat?" Yaz asks again, tucked against the Doctor's side, tracing her fingers across the Doctor's bare stomach.

"Like it? Yaz, I love it! Picture me! With a flat! A flat with my girl!" the Doctor laughs, then tilts her chin up, "It's beautiful, love."

She always finds herself absolutely drowning in those green jade pools. "I'm so glad... our little space flat."

"Our little space flat." The Doctor kisses her, starts her panting, digging her fingers into skin. "Big space bed," the Doctor adds, pulling her on top.

"Big space bed," she agrees, kissing down the Doctor's neck, collarbones, chest. When the Doctor whimpers her name, her heart swells. She has her own favorite sounds, too.

* * *

"We should do this more," the Doctor murmurs, massaging Yaz's calf softly with one hand. The other holds a donut. An old movie is playing on the TV in the living room. The pair is stretched out on the purple sofa, eating the clotted cream donuts and custards. The Doctor, predictably, has crumbs all over her and Yaz moved to lean on the other arm of the sofa to avoid sugar in her hair.

"What? Sex?" she asks with a laugh.

The Doctor smirks. "Yes, but I meant _alone time_. Take fam movie nights. It's not like Ryan and Graham sign up for a side show of snogging."

"Or a side show of freaky eaters."

"Oi, watch it, you, or I won't share."

"Share? I bought them!"

"And gave them to me so now they're mine." The Doctor points accusingly at her, before moving her massage to her ankle.

"The flat won't let the gents in. They got the sofa to the TARDIS but I couldn’t find the door until they gave up. So we can have alone time whenever we want. Yknow. Assumin' the world isn't ending like it usually is."

"Good point. Guess we'll take it when we can get it."

"I'll take every time with you. All of it. You're a time lord, you can do that right?"

The Doctor's voice is humbly serious as she replies, "I'll certainly try, love."

* * *

At some point, Yaz gets up to make popcorn for old shitty movie number two. At another, the Doctor wanders off to the restroom, and it takes Yaz a moment to realize she's been gone too long for a time lord and smells way too much lavender. She finds her Doctor up to her eyes in bubbles. She joins her, of course, and the Doctor tells her about the time plastic mannequins came to life, only to find the rubber duckies in the stores alive, too, and _very_ aggressive. They get in the fancy shower to rinse off, and end up breaking it in, too. The Doctor sits against the glass window afterward, watching Yaz with a languid smile as she washes her hair. “What are you staring at, Doctor?” Yaz asks, when the Doctor has been quiet for far longer than she normally is.

“You,” the Doctor murmurs, “ _My_ Yaz.” Predictably, her heart stutters. The Doctor cocks her head, smirks, “Again? What am I going to do with you, Yaz?”

“Stop being so bloody cute?”   
The Doctor gets to her feet to join her under the water again, turns Yaz around and presses her against the glass. “Nah. Can’t turn it off.”

* * *

They finally leave the flat and go for air and food when Yaz’s stomach won’t shut up. The Doctor shakes her still-wet hair out like a golden retriever, getting droplets on Yaz much to her dismay. They walk down the streets of Sheffield to Yaz’s usual grocery store, nudging each other’s shoulders. She never pictured herself grocery shopping with her practically immortal alien girlfriend, but the event brings immense joy. When they walk down the cereal isle, the Doctor parks herself in front of the pop tarts. “Come get me in ten minutes,” she tells Yaz, “This will take a tick.” When Yaz comes back as requested, the Doctor hasn’t moved. 900 plus years, the appetite of a British kid with the decision anxiety of an overwhelmed adult.

“Hi, Yaz,” the Doctor greets, not looking away from the shelves.

“Hi, Doctor,” Yaz returns, leaning against the trolly. “You know you can get more than one flavor.”

“Can I?” The Doctor breaks her pop tart stare down to look at her.

“‘Course you can.” And she's rewarded with a beautiful smile.

"Cookie dough for you, yeah?" The Doctor asks, tossing s'mores and brown sugar cinnamon into the trolly. The cookie dough goes in without her responding. "I know you. So, what are we having for supper?"

"Pakora?" Yaz jokes, suppressing a laugh when the Doctor's nose wrinkles.

"Your da's recipe?" The tone is suspicious.

"I'm only kidding. I'm making regular curry."

"Oh, lovely!" She takes the trolly from Yaz.

They walk through the rest of the isles again, quickly, in case the Doctor wants anything else for the flat. "Don't tell your da about the pakora. He thinks I loved it."

"You filthy liar," she chuckles, hand sliding down to take hers.

* * *

They spend the rest of the evening holed up in their little space flat, cooking, eating,watching more movies. Having more sex. Yaz's head hits the pillow, muscles feeling all the good kinds of sore, half asleep. The Doctor smiles over at her from the other pillow. "Thank you for everything, today, love," she murmurs, brushing her hair back, "It was perfect."

"Happy to oblige, love," Yaz returns, snuggling closer, "D'you need anything? Before I fall asleep?"

"I'm perfectly lovely. You sleep. I'll mute the telly."

"Mmmm." She throws an arm around the Doctor's waist, pulling her in. "Doctor?"

"Yes, Yaz?"

"I love you."

The Doctor's fingers comb gently through her hair, brush her eyelids closed. "I love you, too." She drifts off for the first night of many in the flat, heart beat slowing with sleep. The Doctor stays awake, but closes her eyes, listening to that lovely sound.


End file.
